


the cookies are burning

by wolfsbvne



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Baking, Boys In Love, Boys with feelings, Fluff, How Do I Tag, Im Projecting, M/M, author has never written anything before, but it isnt that bad, its short but it gets the job done, minsung are gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 02:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20036023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfsbvne/pseuds/wolfsbvne
Summary: “It’s okay. To want things. That’s what I meant to say earlier. It’s okay to need help too though, but I don’t think that's what's wrong. You like me, yeah?” Jisung finally locks his eyes with Minho’s and keeps them there.(or, minho is in denial and jisung sees through it just this once)





	the cookies are burning

It’s not that Minho doesn’t believe in love. He believes in the flowers on Valentine’s Day. The kisses in the morning before either person has brushed their teeth. The promise that there is someone there who cares deeply about you.

The problem is Minho doesn’t want to believe in this love.

Minho has repressed his feelings deep into his chest, hidden between the arteries of his heart. He’s convinced himself none of its real. The soft glances Jisung gives him aren’t there, not really. He’s happy for his friends, for Seungmin and Hyunjin who look so happy. That is love. What he and Jisung have isn’t. Couldn’t be.

So when the knock on his door that he knows all too well comes he takes it with a grain of salt. There Jisung stands holding a bag way too heavy for his arms to carry and the biggest smile on his face his cheeks can handle. He greets Minho’s cats as best he can from over the groceries sprouting over the top of the bag. They’re supposed to make cookies today, Changbin got an internship at a music label and its the only gift the two broke college students can afford for him. 

Jisung clad in his black skinny jeans and boxy cropped tee. Jisung with his fluffy purple-brown hair. Jisung with his too-big rings. 

Minho takes the bag from him and leads him to his kitchen where they spread the ingredients out, (“Hyung can you help me open this? What. How come you can do it so easily?”)

And so they bake cookies. Minho is baking cookies with his friend. Not looking at him lick the mix off the tip of his thumb. Not softly smiling at the way Jisung pouts when Minho flicks flour on him. The one time Minho focuses on something else Jisung takes the corner of his phone in between his pointer finger and his thumb and dangles it in front of the elder’s face. (“Today is for us. Not for--” he glances at the screen “--for Twitter user SpearB. Oh. Well I guess these cookies are for him but still, Hyung,”) 

It’s suffocating in the softest way. 

They continue adding ingredients to the bowl, using uncertain measurements because Minho doesn’t own measuring cups. (“Why don’t you own measuring cups, Hyung?”)

There’s a moment where he just looks. Jisung is rocking back and forth while creating a sphere of cookie dough, tongue pointed out of the corner of his mouth and eyes narrowed. 

By the time the oven beeps indicating its at the correct temperature Jisung is putting them in by himself. Minho had left to the bathroom where he’s staring himself in the eyes in the mirror. His face crumples and contorts as the tears fall. There isn’t anyone to blame, he thinks. I did this to myself.

Denial. Thinking you can avoid the inevitable. The biggest part of falling in love is the acceptance that it’s happening. That you have to take it for what it is and face it. He’s in love. With Jisung.

Jisung who laughs like there's nothing he’d rather be doing. Jisung who greets his cats whenever he comes over. Jisung who sings softer than the ocean waves and raps like fire crackling through the woods. His Jisung.

“Hyung?” is called through the door, with a faint knock. Not the usual knock he gets at his front door nearly every day to signal his Jisung’s arrival. His fingers barely grazed the wood of the door.

“I’m okay, Sungie. Just a bit of a stomach ache. I’ll be out in a second.” Minho says with the stablest voice he can muster. The door thuds a bit and Minho can tell Jisung just rested his forehead against it. 

“You can tell me, you know. Whatever is wrong. I- it’s okay. To need help.” Minho hears a sigh and the weight on the door shifts. He’s leaning against it. 

“I’m okay, I told you it's just my stomach, Sung.” Minho braces himself on the edge of the sink. Why’s he got to be difficult now? 

“Minho-Hyung.” 

“Jisung.”

“Okay.” The weight from the door disappears and Minho hears footsteps leading down the hallway to the living room.

What is he supposed to say? Tell Jisung what’s on his mind? What’s been creeping through the layers of his own heart? He’s barely admitted it to himself. He has to get back out there. He has to face Jisung and pretend he is okay. He isn’t.

Minho’s time wallowing in the bathroom is up and he creaks the door open and shuts off the bathroom lights before sauntering to the living room couch where he sits next to Jisung, kept apart by a few feet. The TV plays at a soft volume in the background. An episode of that K-Drama Jisung wanted Minho to watch is playing.

The air feels thick and there are words on the tip of his tongue that Minho can’t bring himself to say. He thinks over the past few months and all the ways he’s been so blind. His birthday party, which was combined with a Halloween party where Jisung dressed as Luke Skywalker from Star Wars and looked so dorky and cute Minho just wanted to kiss him. The library where they studied together for a history exam and Jisung kept balling up sticky notes and flicking them at Minho to get his attention.

Dori’s tail against Minho’s leg brings him back to now, where Jisung is sitting so close yet so far with his eyebrows drawn up together.

He’s scratching at his arms and glancing over at Minho and back to the TV every few breaths. His voice cuts through the room like a knife. “It’s okay. To want things. That’s what I meant to say earlier. It’s okay to need help too though, but I don’t think that's what's wrong. You like me, yeah?” Jisung finally locks his eyes with Minho’s and keeps them there.

Minho nods.

“I thought I was crazy. Up until today you always kept your cool. You were like a best friend. You are like a best friend. But it didn’t seem like there was anything more to that. I thought I was too obvious. All our friends poking fun at me for my crush on you.” 

Minho breathes in deeply but doesn’t say anything, only blinks his eyes a few times.

“I don’t think you’re bad at feelings. I think you’re amazing at feeling things that you want to show. But you didn’t want to like me, did you?”

Minho does speak up this time, “That isn’t it Jisung, you know it isn’t. I just couldn’t, I don’t know. I couldn’t think of all the things that could go wrong.”

Jisung brings his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. “What changed today then? I felt it. Right when we balled those stupid cookies up and put them on the tray. There was a film over your eyes. Your breath hitched when you looked at me and then you ran off.”

“Would you believe me if I said it was just your beauty?”

That does bring a smile out of Jisung and he rolls his eyes, “You’re such a cliche.” 

“What now?” Minho asks. Everything is on the table. Jisung saw through him at his weakest point.

“Now, you should probably take the cookies out. They smell like they’re burning.” 

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

Life is full of these trials and errors. Roads and dead ends that can lead someone as far as they let them. All it takes is one flick of a switch. One crack in the shield a person has been putting up for so long. A moment where the one you wish wouldn’t see it the most does.

When Minho and Jisung bring the slightly blackened cookies to Changbin and Woojin’s apartment, they hold hands.

**Author's Note:**

> ive literally never written and posted anything before im just really sad rn this entire fic is me projecting. writing is hard btw shoutout to all u writers who do this literally all the time


End file.
